A Hard Day's Night
by Webstergem
Summary: Fluff. Sherlock, John, Mycroft, and Greg go out to celebrate John and Sherlock's first year working together, and Sherlock and Greg get WAY to drunk. Johnlock, with hints of Mystrade.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys. I PROMISE I will continue the other stories. But my inspiration comes and goes, so I don't know when that will be. This is a short 3 chapter Johnlock fluff story. It has hints of Mystrade though, and I know that's not everyone's favorite, but I couldn't resist. This is rated T for alcohol and language. And severe hangovers.**

_Chapter 1:_

John and Sherlock were at the crime scene, Greg and John admiring Sherlock as he deduced where the detective inspector had gotten his new socks, when a shiny black car pulled up to the curb.

"I can see the indents left on your upper ankle. The marks are criss-crossed. There's only three stores that sell…." Sherlock trailed off as the elegant man stepped out of the car, and Lestrade literally froze.

After a flip of his umbrella, the man strolled up to the group. Greg acknowledged him with a nod of his head and a gruff "Mycroft," without making eye contact.

"Gregory," Mycroft replied stiffly, then turned to John, "Dr. Watson," and then turning to greet Sherlock with a "brother," that was so venomous the group was surprised no one dropped dead.

"What are _you _doing here?" Sherlock's icy stare threw daggers at Mycroft with his eyes.

Mycroft focused his attention back onto his umbrella, "I thought I might by you all…." he matched Sherlock's gaze, "a drink."

"A-A drink?" John stuttered, looking over at Sherlock, "A drink for…" he looked back at Mycroft, "what?"

"Well, considering it's the first anniversary of you and my brother working together, I thought a celebration was in order," Mycroft smirked; his gaze had never left Sherlock.

John glared at Sherlock, "It was the anniversary, and you didn't tell me?!"

Sherlock scoffed, avoiding eye contact with anyone, "I thought you had remembered. And if you had wanted to celebrate, you needed only ask."

John shook his head and turned back to Mycroft, "Yes, that would be lovely. Um…" He spotted the sleek black car, "Do you mind if we…catch a ride with you?"

"Not at all," Mycroft started walking away, and without turning back he beckoned to Greg, "Come along, Gregory."

"Who…me?" Greg glanced up to see that Mycroft had turned to face him beside the car. "Nah, you don't want me at your party. I'll just be a problem, and…."

Greg stopped when he realized Mycroft's gaze hadn't faltered from his face.

Greg sighed, "Oh, bloody hell, alright." Greg started walking toward the car, not looking at Mycroft.

Mycroft allowed himself a small smile of triumph.


	2. Chapter 2

**This is another chapter of this story (there's only gonna be three) so this is the drinking chapter. The next chapter will be better, I assure you.**

**UGH MYCROFT STOP HACKING MY**

**She doesn't know what she's talking about. Sh**

**MYCROFT CUT IT OUT**

**Okay, fine.**

_Chapter 2: _

The pub was smoky, and Mycroft looked out of place. There was an orange glint coming off the tables from the shallow light. Drunk men and women surrounded the group.

They took there seats at the bar; Sherlock on the far right, then John, then Greg, then Mycroft. "Hey, you know what would be fun?" Greg shouted above the noise.

"A drinking game?" Sherlock suggested.

"Sounds marvelous to me," Mycroft said with a mischievous glint in his eye, "John?"

John shook his head, "I'm on a low-alcohol diet, so I'll just have my drink and be off."

Greg punched his arm teasingly, "Oh, come on John, don't be like that! It's your anniversary!"

John shook his head again, "Sorry, but no. I'll sit here and make fun of you guys though."

"The only person you'll be making fun of is Lestrade…" Sherlock teased

"Me! I thought it was obvious we would be making fun of Mycroft!" Greg turned and grinned at him.

Mycroft waved his hand dimissively, "Come on, now. We all know Sherlock's the worst drinker."

John grinned, "There's only one way to find out." He called the barista over. "Get a round of shots for these three. And put it on a tab." John looked at the trio's faces and sighed.

Apparently, the game was on.


	3. Final Chapter

**Sorry about the last line guys, but after spending an entire morning watching Supernatural...well...****Anyway, I will be continuing the other stories, and writing a sequel to I'll Always Be Here, as I mentioned in my other story. So, have I nice summer, and know that I WILL BE UPDATING!**

John awoke to the sound of crashing downstairs. He cracked open his eyes and sat up slowly; his battlefield instincts seemed to think everything was fine.

Stumbling down the stairs, he blinked sleepily at the motionless figure on the sofa, "Sherlock?"

A loud snore came from the taller man, and John could barley stifle his laugh. Stretching, he strode over to Sherlock and lifted him swiftly into his arms.

Sherlock curled around him, wrapping his long arms lazily around the shorter man's neck, burying his face into his bare shoulder. "John…" he whispered sleepily, curls bouncing against John's skin as he climbed the stairs to Sherlock's bedroom.

"Alright, down you go," John told Sherlock as he lowered him onto the bed. But there was one problem.

Sherlock wouldn't let go.

Sherlock steeled his arms around John's neck and wrapped his legs around his waist, "John," He repeated, sounding kind of panicked.

"Alright, you want to play this game now, do you?" John replied. "Fine." He flipped them around and sat on the bed, pulling the covers over them both. "There."

Sherlock slid off his lap and onto the bed, his head laying gently on John's chest as he slept on.

John's breathing started to slow. _Sleeping here wouldn't be so bad, _he thought.

John leaned down and planted a small kiss into Sherlock's curls, "Good night, Sherlock." he whispered.

As he was about to drift off, he felt a pair of refreshingly cool lips press against his cheek, "Good night John," Sherlock said to John.

John couldn't hide his smile. He knew Sherlock may give him a hard day, but when the night came John knew he would never be able to stay mad at his little angel.


End file.
